


Fakes Don't Last Too Long

by Spuri



Series: Tumblr shorts [9]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Crack, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Mutual Pining, Neckz 'n' Throats, brief mention of incestuous polyamourous fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-17
Updated: 2014-01-17
Packaged: 2018-01-09 01:57:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1140093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spuri/pseuds/Spuri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles works at a coffeeshop, crushing on all the gorgeous customers, but most of all on Derek, the hottest of them all. So when Derek asks Stiles to be his fake boyfriend for family reasons, it's not like Stiles is gonna say no.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fakes Don't Last Too Long

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Sterek Secret Santa 2013, for [my santee's](http://bella8876.tumblr.com) prompt of: Ok so basically what I want is a Pretend Boyfriend story set in the Neckz N Throats verse where the Hale family is still alive with minor angst, a bit of porn, and a happy ending. And someone plays baseball, and drinks coffee, in an office, while away at college. In a nutshell Stiles, to pay for college, works in the coffee shop on the ground floor of the building that houses the Neckz N Throats offices where Derek models/is the photographer, with the rest of his family, and for some reason they have to pretend to be boyfriends. And play baseball. Yes this will do.  
> No but seriously is there a trope I’m missing here? Cause I can’t find one. Also this would be awesome but in no way do I expect my secret santa to do all this.
> 
> This challenge had a 2500 wordcount limit, but I do at some point want to expand the awkward dating and mutual pining and make this a longer fic. We shall see, though.

“I’m going to die, Scott!” Stiles hissed into his cell phone, hiding in the employee bathroom of _Fourecks_ in a dual attempt to both calm the fuck down and vent. “This job is going to _kill me_ , I swear.”

“You’re not gonna _die_ , Stiles, it’s a coffee shop,” Scott pointed out in his gentle reasonable-and-logical voice. Stiles disliked that voice. People shouldn’t be reasonable when he was _dying here_ , especially not his best friend.

“No, you don’t understand, the people here, they’re-…” he trailed off with a whimper. “It’s been, like, a week, and I’ve never seen so many unnaturally gorgeous people in my _life_ , okay? I didn’t think people could get this hot. I’m starting to wonder what the fuck they put in the coffee here, and I’m legit fearing for my life. The hotness level is _that lethal_.”

It was just supposed to be a part-time job to get him through college, conveniently doubling as a place he could people-watch, to hone his skills for when he graduated and could follow his dad’s footsteps into law enforcement. And now he was tragically gonna expire before he could realize any of his dreams.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not a thing.”

“It is totally a thing! Okay, imagine this: You’re working, and every shift, there’s basically like fifty Allisons showing up, some casually flirting, some in _very skimpy clothing_ , and generally seeming like they’re at various stages of their lives, but all gorgeous and apparently awesome. Do you see my problem now?!”

“Not really,” Scott replied, and that voice, that was his-…

“Oh my _god_ ,” Stiles screeched, seconds from just flinging his phone across the room. “You’re a horrible, terrible friend, and I’m gonna bill you for the years of therapy I’ll need for this.”

He hung up before he could hear any protests - not that he really expected any, Scott was ridiculously zen every time he got all gooey (and other things) about Allison - because he needed to get back to work, and to not hear his best bud sound like that, ever.

He took a deep, bracing breath, and headed back out into the store.

 

* * *

 

Stiles couldn’t quite make up his mind whether it was a blessing or a curse that store policy was to ask for customers’ names for their coffees. On the one hand, it was kind of less creepy to silently worship these people when he knew their names, and they weren’t just random strangers. On the other hand, it gave a false sense of closeness, and Stiles _really_ didn’t need to get his hopes up about being noticed by Erica, the flirty blonde with the best rack he’s ever seen, or Danny with the dimples and the sweet smile, or the strawberry-blonde goddess Lydia, or worse, the intimidating yet drop-dead gorgeous mother-daughter trio - Talia, Laura and Cora - who, quite frankly, filled Stiles with all kinds of weird and conflicted feelings he really didn’t want or need in his life. Seriously, he could happily have lived his entire life without his brain going there. He _hated_ his brain.

After a month, it was getting harder to remember that he didn’t actually _know_ these people, he was just the damn barista. And even if he kind of loved this job - who wouldn’t love being surrounded by coffee all day? - he couldn’t help but feel increasingly, well, _lonely_ with the end of each passing shift.

The bell jangled, and Stiles looked up with his very best retail smile. It almost slipped when he saw who it was; the Blue Whale, the Great White, the Moby Dick of Hotness, Derek - who, from what Stiles could tell from Derek’s _very_ tight jeans, actually _had_ a Moby Dick, so to speak. He swallowed a whimper and hoped that his smile hadn’t turned manic.

“Hey, Derek. The usual?”

Derek nodded awkwardly, before glowering unimpressively to cover it up. Stiles’ heart melted all over again that the guy was still embarrassed of his iced coffee with extra shots of sweetener, creamer and caramel and raspberry syrup. And the worst part was that it’d only become his usual after Stiles had fucked up his much less sweet actual order the first time he saw the guy. He wasn’t sure which one of them had been more mortified; Stiles, who’d been drooling too hard to pay attention to what he was doing, or Derek, who secretly preferred a much sweeter coffee than anything he would actually order out loud.

Stiles swiftly went through the movements of making and handing over Derek’s coffee, and blinked when the guy seemed even more twitchy and glare-y than usual.

“Yes?” Stiles prompted, because he wasn’t psychic, and didn’t speak eyebrow.

“Be my fake boyfriend,” Derek blurted after repeatedly clenching his jaw. It was probably supposed to be a question, but Stiles couldn’t find a single sign of a question mark.

Then again, his brain was too busy breaking to properly accept and analyze grammatical input.

“What?” he squawked, and tried not to feel like his face was on fire. “ _Why_?!”

Which really wasn’t what he was trying to say. More like, _‘why me?’_ , or _‘why do you need a fake_ anything?’

“It’s… Our parents won’t let my younger sister Cora date before I do, and she really likes this guy, and Laura wants to put some kind of stupid love story scoop on me in the magazine and-… never mind. Forget I asked.”

Derek grabbed his coffee, and made for a swift retreat, so Stiles lunged across the counter to grab his arm, and promptly let go as Derek glared at him.

“Wait! Don’t go, sorry, you just, um, surprised me.” Stiles took a deep breath. “First of all, magazine? And if you’re gonna get a boyfriend - fake or otherwise - shouldn’t it be because _you_ want to, and not your-… oh my god, Cora and Laura are _your sisters_?! Talia is your _mother_?”

“What exactly am I supposed to answer?” Derek asked, looking supremely annoyed.

“Uh, all of it?” Stiles said, fixing Derek with his most hopeful puppy look.

Derek rolled his eyes. “Yes, they’re family, and we run a magazine upstairs, _Neckz ‘n Throats_? It’s kind of the family business. And I don’t… mind. So if you-… I’m sure it’d only have to be for a month. Unless, fuck, are you even single? Of course you aren’t, fuck.”

Derek grimaced and ran his fingers through his hair, mussing it up in ways that should be illegal. Stiles swallowed a whimper.

“No, no, I’m single, _painfully_ single, like, you have no idea. And if you’re sure this is what you want to do, I’ll help you out.” Stiles put on his most cheerful fake smile, because fuck if he’d pass up on even a single date with Derek, even though the thought of it all being fake made him want to crawl into a bottle and stay there. He pulled out his phone, and offered it up. “Gimme your number, and we can work out the details later?”

Derek’s lips twitched into what looked like the beginnings of an actual smile, and he grabbed Stiles’ phone and quickly put in his number. “Thanks, uh…”

“Stiles.”

“Stiles,” Derek repeated, and handed back the phone with smile that was microscopically wider. “I’ll see you later, then.”

Stiles nodded and waved him out, and promptly thunked his head onto the counter as soon as Derek was out of sight. _How_ did he get into these situations?

With a groan, he pulled his phone up to his face and saved Derek’s number, before he went on to research what the hell kind of magazine _Neckz ‘n Throats_ was.

 

* * *

 

At 3am, after way too many hours of going through online backlogs of old NnT issues, Stiles found the baseball photoshoot. He stared at the picture on his screen, not sure how to react to the sight of Derek sitting butt naked in a dugout, nothing covering him but the baseball bat planted firmly on the ground between his obscenely spread legs, and a smirk on his face.

Stiles laughed hoarsely. _His life_. He slammed his laptop shut and shuffled awkwardly towards his bed, rummaging through the nightstand for the tube of-… yep, there it was.

He sighed as he thumbed it open. Werewolf fucking skin mag. _‘Unnaturally gorgeous’_ , indeed.

 

* * *

 

Stiles flailed awake at noon, pathetically grateful that weekend meant no school, and his shift at the coffee shop didn’t start until 4pm. Which gave him plenty of time to shower and get dressed and-… fuck, obsess over what to text Derek. Not plenty of time, then.

He finally managed a _‘Hi, Stiles here. So, what exactly did you have in mind for this?’_ before running to get to work at something approaching on time.

He’d only just skidded through to the staff room and grabbed his apron when his phone vibrated, startling a yelp out of him. He almost dropped his phone thrice as he dug it out and clumsily juggled it until he got a proper grip.

Stiles stared at the text from Derek suggesting dinner and a movie. Wasn’t fake dating all about doing it in _front_ of people? Maybe it was a double date, or something? What would be the point otherwise?

_‘Sure thing! Though my shifts are kicking my ass right now, so my next evening off isn’t until Wed. Sound good, or you wanna do something else?’_ he texted, and bit his lip nervously, hoping Derek wouldn’t give up and choose someone with an easier schedule.

A new text ticked in, and Stiles stared at the one-word message. _‘Sure’_? What did _‘sure’_ mean? Was Derek annoyed that Stiles wasn’t free sooner? Was it a bad _sure_ or a good _sure_? Was there even such a thing as a good _sure_?

Another incoming text interrupted his panic, offering to pick him up at six thirty. Okay then, that meant Wednesday was a go, right?

_‘Awesome,’_ he typed, and added his address, before chewing on his lip again. Hesitantly, he continued typing. _‘And hey, even if it’s fake doesn’t mean we can’t have fun, right? :D’_

He sent it before he could start second-guessing himself too terribly. Maybe the smiley had been too much? Well, at least he hadn’t used a winky one.

His phone buzzed again, this time with a _‘sorry, work calls’_ , and Stiles desperately hoped that was true, and not some kind of excuse so Derek wouldn’t have to talk to him anymore.

With a frustrated sigh, he put his phone away and tied his apron, ready to do some work of his own.

 

* * *

 

So, apparently, staring at pictures of Derek in various levels of nudity until his sanity (and dick) couldn’t take it anymore and he slammed his laptop shut was going to be a nightly thing. Because really, knowing there were semi-nudes of the guy you were crushing on Out There, and _not looking_? Yeah, that took a stronger man than Stiles.

He flopped onto his bed, and grabbed the lube that was still in a corner of his bed from the night before.

 

* * *

 

Stiles’ Wednesday classes were torture, every single one of them. Part of him couldn’t wait for his date - even if it was fake - and part of him dreaded it to an insane degree. But the worst part was definitely the waiting. And god, it wasn’t as if his crush had gotten any _smaller_ by Derek texting him every now and then - and suddenly _stopping_ for no good reason, killing Stiles’ nerves for hours until he got a new one - over the past couple of days, or actually talking to him when he came in for coffee.

But finally, Stiles was dressed in his best jeans and a blue button-up, wiping his sweaty palms on his thighs under the table at the restaurant Derek had picked out - nothing too fancy, thankfully; Stiles didn’t know his forks from his… forks? - smiling weakly into the awkward silence as they waited for their orders.

“So…” Stiles started, and cleared his throat. “Is, uh, werewolf fake dating different than regular fake dating? Not that I really have any experience with that, either.”

Derek gave him an odd look, before shrugging. “A little, maybe? Scent is important, so…”

“So what, aggressive cuddle sessions are a must? That kind of thing?” Stiles joked, taking a sip of water.

“Well, yes,” Derek confirmed, and Stiles almost choked, coughing to get the water to go down properly. “And, uh, other stuff, but we don’t have to…”

Derek trailed off awkwardly, and Stiles tried not to blush to death imagining what _other stuff_ might be.

Which kind of set the tone for the kind of awkward and embarrassing the rest of the date turned out to be, _Jesus_. Sure, Stiles wasn’t usually the best in tricky social situations with strangers, but surely this wasn’t all on him, right?

Way too soon, and nowhere near soon _enough_ , they were back out in Derek’s drool-worthy Camaro, and Derek was driving him home in complete silence. Seriously, why wasn’t the radio even on? God, the last time he’d been on a date this awkward, he had sworn never to think of said date again, after Nat had wound up wearing the pad thai. And they’d been in a _German restaurant_.

“Sooo, you wanna come up for coffee or something?” Stiles suggested as he undid his seatbelt upon arrival. “I mean, we haven’t really done the physical contact cuddle thing you were talking about, right? If you want to, of course.”

“You don’t mind?” Derek asked after a slight pause, and it was hard to parse his miniscule facial expressions in the dark, but that looked a lot like _gratitude_.

“Of course not, dude!” Stiles beamed. “My place isn’t much, but if you don’t mind, I’d be happy to have you. Err, have you come up- I mean… Oh, fuck everything. Coffee, yes? You already know I make awesome coffee, after all.”

“I’d be happy to, Stiles.” Derek smiled as he shut off the engine and Stiles lead him towards the stairs. He _really_ didn’t trust the elevator in this building; he suspected it was some kind of Satanic ritual sacrificial apparatus.

He’d barely even unlocked his apartment door when Derek’s phone started beeping urgently, and Stiles’ heart sank. That really didn’t sound good. Especially not with Derek’s muttered _‘crap_ ’ as he read the texts he’d just received.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just Peter and last minute work stuff that he should’ve told me about _days_ ago, so I could look at it in time,” Derek explained with a sigh. He ran his fingers through his hair with a pinched expression. “I’m so sorry, but could I borrow your computer for like five minutes? I just need to check the documents he emailed me.”

“Yeah, sure thing, it’s right there on the table. I’ll just start the coffee, ‘kay?” Stiles offered with a smile, and headed for the kitchen corner at Derek’s grateful nod. Humming a little, he measured out and ground the beans, sighing happily at the scent. The sound of his computer booting also booted Stiles’ mind, and he froze. Oh, _fuck_.

Wide-eyed with horror, he twirled around and leapt for the couch and Derek. “No, fuck, don’t look at that, oh my god!”

Too late. The screen was already happily showing what Stiles had been on last: an office photo shoot of Derek, sitting on a desk with the fly of his slacks half-open, a white shirt bunched up around his arms, and wearing _fucking black-rimmed glasses specifically designed to fry Stiles’ brain_.

And in his haste to prevent Derek from actually _seeing_ this, Stiles had ended up halfway in the guy’s lap. His _life_.

“Um,” Stiles said, not sure what else he _could_ say, really. Or whether he wanted to faint from nausea or die of embarrassment.

“Did you… You looked at my shoots?” Derek asked, frowning a little. “Why?”

Stiles stared at him, gaping a little. “Oh my god, _why_? You did seriously not just ask me that, you are not that dense. When you find out the guy you’ve been crushing on basically _shoots porn_ for a living, you _check that shit out_ , okay, _repeatedly_. I’m nowhere near good enough a person not to, sorry.”

Derek actually, honest to god, turned pink. “You’ve been crushing on me?”

Stiles hid his face with a groan, which really only meant burying it in Derek’s lap. It wasn’t an improvement. “Like a schoolgirl. _Pathetically_ so. I’m so sorry, this is probably creepy.”

“ _Stiles_.”

“Just leave me to die, please. I get it,” he muttered against Derek’s jeans.

“Stiles,” Derek repeated, pulling Stiles up with way too attractive superhuman strength. “I asked you out on a fake date because I was too chickenshit to ask for a real one. Pretty sure I win the creeper contest here.”

“You _what_?”

“Yeah. So, if I asked you out for real, would you please say yes?” And that was _definitely_ a hopeful look on Derek’s face, as he absentmindedly rubbed his thumbs against Stiles’ arms. It sounded every bit like the sweet and awkward and so very at odds with Derek’s actual looks personality that Stiles had first fallen for, so he smiled, and gave his reply in kisses instead of words.

He was pretty sure Derek got the picture anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr, yay!](http://spurisani.tumblr.com).


End file.
